


Perception and Fire

by scootiepuffjr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blowjobs, Bottom Derek, Established Relationship, Masturbation, Sleepy Blowjobs, Teasing, Top Stiles, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scootiepuffjr/pseuds/scootiepuffjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't yell at me, Tedgie's had a bad time lately and these are some of her favorite things. ~confetti</p>
<p>Also, I don't write porn? At least not like this, so be kind, or something, idk.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Perception and Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tedgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedgie/gifts).



> Don't yell at me, Tedgie's had a bad time lately and these are some of her favorite things. ~confetti
> 
> Also, I don't write porn? At least not like this, so be kind, or something, idk.

  
Derek's dreaming the best kind of dream. The kind where everything feels hyper realistic, but there's just enough fuzziness to mellow him out, like he's moving through a warm patch of dense fog. The closer he gets to something, the more he can see it, feel it. Right now, he can feel Stiles' lips stretch around him in the most amazing way, tight enough to squeeze him just right. Can feel when Stiles slips his tongue out and slides it up his length, rubbing the sensitive spot beneath the ridge of his dick. His tongue slides forward, following the ridge all the way around, and then sinking, taking all of Derek in his mouth.

He can almost see Stiles, how his back arches and shoulders stretch, his ass held high in the air. He can't tell if he's actually seeing it or if it's all a memory, but the angle makes Stiles' clothes pull tight and Derek finds himself wishing Stiles was as naked as he was. He wants to touch, rub, and caress, feel out those marks he made on that silky skin just last night. Stiles' head bobs slowly, hair mussed and lovely. Derek reaches out, but his hand doesn't make it to its destination, feeling heavy and slow.

The shrill ringing of Stiles' phone jolts Derek out of the fog. He opens his eyes to see Stiles grinning above him. The sheets are shoved down around Derek's body, and he shivers in the early morning cold, his dick twitching at the sensation of Stiles' spit drying on him. Stiles shuffles around until he finds his phone under his pillow, shoving Derek's hands away when he tries to stop him.

"It's Scott," he says, grin still in place. "I've gotta go. I'll see you later."

With a peck on the lips, Stiles jumps away and skips out of the room. Derek's yells of annoyance are met with laughter followed by the slamming of their front door.

+

When Stiles returns, Derek's making himself lunch. Two hands slide around his chest, a warm, clothed body pushing against his bare back. Fingers find his nipples, rubbing around the nubs and causing them to peak. Derek continues mixing, not giving up anything. It's part of the game.

Stiles' hands slide lower, fingers gently pressing along the dips in Derek's muscles, until they meet the top of Derek's sweatpants. They're baggy, worn enough that the elastic is stretched out, barely hanging on his hips. Stiles' fingertips tease just under the band, almost tickling Derek's sensitive skin. He can hear his own breathing become slightly strained, knows Stiles can also hear it by the man's chuckle. The sound is followed by warm air that spreads over Derek's neck like wildfire.

Stiles reaches around Derek's body to grab the bowl and spoon Derek had forgotten about, and leaves the kitchen.

+

They eat together, sharing one spoon while Stiles recounts the disaster that was moving Scott into Kira's. Scott, apparently, didn't pack anything until Stiles got there. The goof said he'd forgotten since he and Kira had dinner with her parents the night before. Years later and Scott was still terrified of her mother, it would seem.

Derek wasn't paying that much attention. Stiles had sprawled mostly on top of him the moment he sat down, shoved the spoon into his own mouth with a smile.

"It's good," he'd said around a mouthful, laughed when Derek pushed his jaw closed.

Now, Derek watches him, watches his mouth move around the spoon, watches his eyes light up when he talks about Scott being a lovable idiot, watches the small smirk that reveals itself when he shifts in Derek's lap. Derek's still hard, cock pushing up against the soft cotton of his pants and Stiles' thigh. Gently, Stiles shifts around until he has Derek underneath him, food forgotten on the coffee table as he paws at Derek's skin.

His lips find Derek's for the first time that day and it feels like a tight string has been snapped, like Derek can breathe again. Stiles' lips move slowly, sucking Derek's bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling. Stiles kisses like he's dying for it, like every moment he spends without his mouth on Derek's is the worst kind of punishment. He nips and bites, tongue sliding against Derek's, slipping in and drawing it out until they're left tonguing each other in midair.

Derek lets his moans fall out as they will, head spinning when they start to match the sounds coming from Stiles. Stiles' body feels scorching when Derek slides his hands up under clothing, shoving at the fabric with an urgency he normally holds back for farther along in their game. He doesn't have enough patience for it today, it would seem. Stiles grins against the skin of his jaw, biting at it and scraping his teeth down his neck. Derek's body arches without his permission, shoving up into Stiles' space. Stiles shoves back, moving his hands to pin Derek's hips down. He could break it if he wanted to; he doesn't want to.

Derek growls when Stiles' phone cuts through their moans, snaps at Stiles' fingers when the man covers Derek's mouth.

"I'm sorry," Stiles pants and something inside of Derek is incredibly please at the breathless edge to Stiles' voice. "I just came because I almost caught a glimpse of Kira's bare ass. I wanted to give them a second to finish up."

Derek glares beneath his lover's hand. It's met with a grin against flushed cheeks and a kiss on the forehead before Stiles leaps off of him and rushes out the door again.

+

Derek works out in the gym downstairs. It was one of the reasons they took this apartment. Stiles said he was tired of Derek having to travel unnecessarily to work out. He liked having Derek close, and Derek didn't mind it one bit. The gym wasn't as advanced as he would have liked, was too small for him to feel comfortable if there was any one other than Stiles working out with him, but he made do. It was part of loving Stiles.

His phone rings about half way through his workout. Stiles says he going to be a little bit longer, sounding annoyed and having to talk over some background voices. Derek adds cardio to his workout to stay longer. When he makes it back up to their apartment, muscles tight and tired, Stiles still isn't home. Darkness had settled a while ago, but Derek doesn't need much light to get around his home so he leaves the lights off save for the one in the bathroom. He takes his time washing the sweat off himself, catching sight of the bottle of lube they keep with the soaps.

He sighs when he opens himself up. He never feels like Stiles, can never get it right with too short fingers and awkward angles. He moves out from under the water, because no matter what anyone says water is actually the opposite of lube, and leans his head against the cool tiles. He's got three fingers shoved into himself, cock standing at attention, when he hears Stiles call his name. It's muffled, coming from somewhere back toward the front door, and Derek's voice cracks when he calls back. He gets out, drying his body quickly. He's on his way out the door when he gets an idea.

He finds Stiles lying in the center of their bed, arm thrown over his eyes and stripped of all but his boxers. The only light on is the small lamp on the bedside table; light shines softly across Stiles, settling into the dips of his body. Derek has to stop in the doorway and just look for a moment.

Stiles begins speaking as soon as Derek enters the room. "It turned into a fucking party, as always. I got stuck there for no shit two extra hours because of fucking Isaac."

Derek hums a response, leaning one knee of the bed in between Stiles' legs. One hand moves to massage Stiles' bare thigh, the other resting on his hip, fingers gently toying with the elastic of his Rocky and Bullwinkle boxers.

"He was supposed to come help earlier, but claimed he got caught up at a bookstore or some bullshit. He was fucking toasted when he showed up, not to mention he had five other people in tow," Stiles rants, arm not moving from his face. His body's tense, muscles tight underneath Derek's hands.

Derek hums another half response, hand moving up to join the other at the cut of Stiles' hips. His fingers tighten around the elastic and Stiles lifts his ass for Derek to pull the clothing down. Stiles sighs when the cloth slides off, dick still soft against his hip. It responds to the brush of Derek's fingers, twitching slightly. Stiles sighs again, spreads his legs a little and settling his body into the mattress. Derek's fingers wrap around Stiles, squeezing gently.

"I mean, why can't anyone else be reliable? I don't understand why Scott's always doing everything he can-" Stiles breaks off into a moan as Derek tightens his grip. He's grown harder under the movement of Derek's hand, still not fully, but enough to push against Derek's palm. After a moment, Stiles starts talking again, "And, I'm the only one ever around to help him. How is that fair?"

In lieu of an answer, Derek leans down to take the tip of Stiles' dick in his mouth. Stiles hisses at the wet contact and Derek wastes no time coaching Stiles to full hardness, relishing the taste of Stiles on his tongue. Stiles' voice turns into a low groan and Derek sees flushed skin when he glances up. Stiles' arm is still covering his eyes, his other hand clutching the sheets as Derek sinks to the base and twists his tongue as far as he can. He stays there just long enough to get Stiles fully hard, moves down to take Stiles' balls in his mouth quickly before pulling away.

Finally, Stiles takes his arm down, confusion evident on his face when he opens his mouth. He only gets out, "What," before Derek's straddling his thighs. His voice morphs into a quiet, surprised moan when Derek lines up and lowers himself down, already lubed up and stretched out just enough for Derek to feel full instead of pained. Derek sets a fast pace, shifting up and down quickly, letting his own moans fall in sync with Stiles'. Stiles' hands fumble to grab onto Derek's thighs, fingers digging into sore flesh, forcing a hiss from Derek's mouth.

Derek slows, grinding down instead of rising and falling. Stiles groans, head thrown back to show off that long neck, dotted and smooth at the same time. When Derek leans forward to bite at it, Stiles shifts his hips, trying to push up and roll them over. Derek's laugh comes out ragged as he squeezes Stiles' hips with his thighs and sits up, red marks left behind to his satisfaction. Stiles glares at him, but it's mostly ineffective since the man's cheeks are splotchy and he can't hold in his soft sounds and curses. Derek grinds down harder, relishing in Stiles' whines and whimpers.

He feels awake, more so than he has all day. He's often reminded exactly why he loves Stiles; when Stiles buys Derek's favorite cereal instead of his own, when Stiles falls off the couch laughing at the absolute worst dad jokes, when Stiles has his head so far into a book Derek swears he's actually a robot absorbing the information instead of reading it, when Stiles tells homeless people he doesn't have any money instead of actively ignoring them. But, here in this moment, skin on skin and minds completely void of everything but these sensations, Derek sees Stiles. He sees taught skin and firm muscle, wide shoulders and thin hips. He sees high cheeks and a wide mouth, that stupid cupid's bow and those dumb eyelashes. He sees perception and fire, life and radiance. Stiles fills him up until he's bursting, pushes against him in the most perfect ways.

Derek's dick is throbbing, thigh muscles quivering under Stiles' hands. The sound falls from him before he can register it, a low, choked sound, and suddenly Stiles is right there, sitting up with his chest pressed to Derek's. Every point of their bodies is making contact and Stiles is saying the most ridiculous things. Things like, "I've got you," and, "Right fucking here, Derek," and Derek doesn't think they're ridiculous at all.

He can't figure out how this turned around on him, how it went from him being in charge to Stiles taking over, but he can't make himself fight it. Stiles has a hand in between them, wrapped around Derek's dick and jerking in time to his thrusts. Derek grabs for him, shoving his face into Stiles' neck and sucking in breathes, wrapping his legs around the man's hips as tight as he can. Stiles is slamming up into him, squeezing his cock almost too tight, holding him around the shoulders with his other arm. He's still talking, thoughts and moans falling from his mouth, mingling together so well that Derek can't tell the difference between them. Derek thinks he's making noise, but he can't figure it out exactly.

Until, swift as anything, his orgasm slams into him. He tightens around Stiles, around his cock, around his shoulders, around his hips. His entire body seizing up for a moment before unraveling. He feels Stiles' movements quicken beneath him, feels teeth dig into his collar bone as Stiles shoves up into him one last time, stilling. His jaw opens and a small sound comes out. Derek swallows it whole.

They fall together, lying side by side with Stiles' softening dick still in Derek and Derek's semen drying on their bellies. Their breathing almost matches until Derek begins to laugh. Stiles' wide smile answers him, and the first things out of Derek's mouth is, "I fucking hate it when you tease me all fucking day."

Stiles' grin only grows, "Yeah, but it produces such amazing results."

Derek sighs, but his mind agrees before he can silence the thought. They lie there in the afterglow, tangled together, sweaty and sore, until Derek shifts and finds his skin being ripped. It feels like it is, at least, even if it's not. He mumbles a, "Gross," and yanks his body away from Stiles'.

"Dude!" Stiles' yells, rubbing his stomach where a red spot has formed in the middle of the dried jizz.

Derek pats his cheek before going to fetch a washcloth, the bathroom light he forgot to shut off lighting his way. Stiles is sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed much like he was before, minus the arm covering his eyes, when Derek returns. He scrubs Stiles' belly with the wet cloth first, taking care not to scrub too roughly, and then cleans himself up. He has to smack Stiles' thigh when he's done to get the man to move so they can get under the covers.

Once they're settled in, wrapped up together again, Stiles says softly, "You know we're getting married, right? Not soon, but eventually one of us is going to pop the question and the other is going to wholeheartedly agree."

The smile that breaks out on Derek's face is too cheesy for him to handle, so he hides it by turning off the bedside lamp and shoving his face into Stiles' neck afterward.

"Hey, Mr. Romantic," Stiles says, jostling his shoulder and Derek's head, "you left the bathroom light on."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Go find Tedgie on tumblr and send her nice things.


End file.
